


To Valinor

by easyasbreathing



Series: My Blood with Fire to Burn [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aging, Always a Different Gender, F/M, Female Gimli, Magic, Rule 63, Sailing To Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easyasbreathing/pseuds/easyasbreathing
Summary: After many years together, Gimli is reaching the end of her mortal span.  They travel to Valinor together, because what else is there to do?  (takes place in 'My Blood With Fire to Burn' 'verse)Prompt from The Two Thousand Fics on AO3 Gigolas ChallengeWhat's this? Mortals don't survive long in Valinor? Death is going to separate Gimli and Legolas until the second singing, and maybe beyond?THIS IS NOT ON.Write your best fix-it idea.





	To Valinor

“Gimli! I see land!” Legolas called excitedly. “Maybe four leagues off! We’ll make landfall today, _meleth nin_!” He leapt from mast down to the deck, landing lightly. The wind was changing; he seized a line, preparing to change their tack. “We’re nearly there!”

“Huzzah,” was Gimli’s somewhat croaky reply. The dwarf was bundled up against the stinging sea breeze, huddled on her bench beside the tiller. “I can finally get on solid earth again.”

“Absolutely,” Legolas said joyfully. 

By any mortal measure, Legolas and Gimli had enjoyed a long, prosperous life together- over a century since they’d wed bare days after the fall of Sauron (or just after Pelennor, depending on who you asked). Now, Gimli was come into the autumn of her days, her russet hair now only a memory, turned to white and silver. Her strength had faded too, her hands trembling so that she could do no fine work, and she sometimes walked with a stick to ease an aching back. Her mind—and tongue—were sharp as ever, but she became tired more quickly, and Legolas knew her days were nearing an end.

Legolas was elf-kind, and unchanged by the passage of years. This was a fact he held bitter in his heart, though he never let Gimli know of it. Long had he wished to share in Gimli’s journey, and stood by helpless.

The little sailboat surged over a wave, the sea water breaking on the bow and sloshing onto the deck. Gimli grumbled at the intrusion.

The sails set, Legolas sprawled beside Gimli on the bench. “Fresh greens, Gimli!” he crowed. “And while I love our little boat, I am looking forward to stretching my legs.”

“Of course you are,” Gimli replied easily, smiling at him from under her grey beard. Her voice had aged too, though it was still as familiar to Legolas as his own heartbeat, and far dearer.

“You of course must be pleased to be seeing the hobbits again,” Legolas said. He knew he was fishing. Gimli hadn’t said much about what she thought of going to Valinor, she must be thinking something.

“Oh, Legolas,” Gimli said, and something about it made Legolas’ breath catch on a sudden pang. “Dear Frodo, and Sam… their years are shorter even than my own, _sanazyung_. They have long passed.”

“It’s Valinor,” Legolas retorted, and stuck out his chin stubbornly. “The Undying Lands, Gimli. They’ll be on the dock to welcome us, and Gandalf and all the others, too.”

“Legolas.”

Legolas fixed his gaze on the sea. He would not look at her.

A trembling hand rested on his shoulder, and Legolas turned to meet Gimli’s gaze. She looked so soft, and understanding, and… old.

“Legolas. _Sanazyung_. You cannot think that Valinor can somehow… save me,” she said gently, gesturing broadly to the wreck time had made of her body. “I am as Mahal made me.”

Legolas’ eyes fogged with tears, but he would not cry. “You are not Mahal’s,” he said fiercely, all but baring his teeth. “You are _mine_. I will not let you go.”

Gimli sighed. She’d been afraid of this. All through their journey to the Grey Havens, and the construction of their ship, Legolas had insisted that everything would work out. He would brook no arguments, only repeating that “Galadriel has bid us come, and all will be well.” She worried about him.

“If you Fade,” Gimli said bluntly, “I’ll tunnel my way into the Halls of Mandos and kick your arse.”

Legolas let out a choked laugh. “You promise?”

“Come here, love.” Gimli pulled Legolas closer, and he let her rest his head on her shoulder. She pet his hair, running the pale gold through her fingers. He clutched at her coat and turned his face into the fabric. It was obviously uncomfortable, curling over her like that, but he held on tightly, like a child in a thunderstorm. 

They stayed that way for a long time.

Finally Legolas took a deep breath and straightened up, laying his hand on the tiller. “I can see the docks,” he said thickly, and scrubbed his hand roughly across his eyes. “Maybe another league?”

“Pilot carefully,” Gimli said softly. Legolas took her hand in his.

The dock was a single long pier jutting out into the ocean, made of the same silvery wood as the Grey Havens. There was a fishing vessel tied along its length, but it was otherwise unoccupied. A small contingent of elves stood about midway down its length. Docking was a tricky maneuver, sailing without help, and Legolas just barely managed it. Gimli held the tiller steady while he tied the boat in place.

Gimli had been sitting on the bench for most of the day, and her back was stiff when Legolas helped her stand. She needed her walking-stick to walk the few feet to the rail, and Legolas basically lifted her over the rail and onto the dock.

“Steady footing at last,” Gimli said with satisfaction. “I hate that thrice-damned boat,” she added, giving it a solid thwack with her stick. Legolas jumped easily from the rail to the dock, slinging a large travel pack over his shoulder.

“Nothing like good stone, I know,” Legolas replied. “We seem to have a welcoming party, _meleth nin_. I told you my visions were true.”

“I never doubted the visions, love.”

The greeting party was maybe a hundred yards away. All elves. Legolas viciously suppressed disappointment at that. They waited quietly, arrayed with banners that drifted in the evening breeze. The sun was beginning to set, turning the air golden. Legolas glanced at Gimli. The solid footing seemed to have revitalized her slightly, and she walked with her back straight and her tread firm. It gave him a brief flicker of hope. She seemed to feel his gaze and looked up to give him a brief smile. Even wrinkled and spotted with age, her color long faded… she was beautiful. She was everything.

As they drew closer the elves shifted, changing formation to form a lane between them, like an honor guard. And there at the end, wearing a smile like a benediction, was Galadriel. She fairly beamed at them, a golden celestial being.

“Welcome, Legolas, Gimli,” she said expansively, hands extended in greeting. “Valinor welcomes you.”

They reached Galadriel. Legolas lowered his burden and bowed deeply, the weathered wood of the dock blurring in his teary eyes. “We are grateful to be welcomed.”

“Aye,” Gimli grunted, and bowed shallowly- all her stiff body would allow. Galadriel took her in with sympathetic eyes.

“We elves do not bear the passage of time as dwarves do, but we will extend you every care,” Galadriel said gently. “This is a place of healing, but the journey to Aüle’s Halls is short, here.”

Legolas couldn’t breathe.

“Our companions have passed, then,” Gimli said heavily.

“They chose to join their families in Yavanna’s Garden,” Galadriel said vaguely. “Your family will await you as well. But that is for another time, my Champion. Come, you both must be wearied by your travels.”

“Couldn’t you lot have found a better method than boats,” Gimli grumped, and followed Galadriel as she turned to leave.

Legolas stood frozen in place. Gimli had told him, over and over, but he’d hoped that would be something to be done, here of all places. They had access to the Valar themselves, surely-

“Legolas?”

Legolas returned to himself. Gimli looked at him curiously. “You coming?”

Legolas shook himself and dredged up a smile. “Of course. I follow you, _meleth nin_.”

Galadriel considered him with wise, ancient eyes. A beat passed. “Gimli,” she said finally. “Remain by your husband. I go ahead to see to your lodgings.”

“My lady?”

Galadriel smiled. “All will be well,” she said, and bent to press a kiss to Gimli’s aged brow.

The golden sun was turning crimson. A ray of red light flashed across Gimli’s hair, an echo of what once was. Galadriel straightened and Gimli looked up at her.

Legolas stared.

The light lingered. It ran down Gimli’s hair and beard like loving fingers, picking out the ghost of copper and auburn, a waterfall of color rushing down her body—

Gimli let out a peal of laughter. Her hair flooded with red and she dropped her stick, pressing her hands to her face. The liver spots vanished. The skin smoothed.

Galadriel looked at Legolas. “Be healed,” she said, and walked away.

Gimli turned to Legolas, and he watched as the lines of care vanished, smoothing her face. She looked up at him through laughing hazel eyes, the rheumy film gone, her beard lush and bright-

“Gimli,” he choked out.

Gimli launched herself at him and Legolas barely caught her. They were both laughing, and he spun her around like they were children at play-

“You’re better, Gimli, what-“

“My back, I could dance- it’s magic-“

Gimli seized his face in strengthened fingers, pulling him into a kiss. He pressed her to him, his body effervescent with relief, with joy-

“The Undying Lands, you said,” Gimli blurted in his face, still laughing. “This is ridiculous!”

“It’s perfect,” Legolas said, and kissed her again.


End file.
